Working with the Girls Ch. 03

Luckily for her, Angela had the next two days off from her job in the hotel's café. I say "luckily", because she later told me that she'd felt so completely split in two by the previous night's anal sex that she'd tried to stay in bed all day, on her stomach of course, and watch TV. She'd had anal intercourse before, but apparently the father of her children was a smaller man than me, a fact that I later always repeated to her while laughing down my sleeve. My digs at her ex, even though he wasn't there to hear them, always forced her to blush and laugh slightly. We spoke on the phone at some point nearly halfway through my shift and she joked that even though she was uninjured, she was going to need some recovery time before we became "vigorous" again.

For myself, I spent the rest of the day checking out girls at the pool through my bar's large windows. The difference between this time and every other time I did it though was that I was not worried about being caught in the act by my new bed partner. As I gazed at several attractive Brazilian women I felt my cock stirring in my pants. They never failed to wear very skimpy bikini bottoms over their rounder-than-most-American butts. The motion of all of those asses and the knowledge of what I'd done last night with Angela's ass had me rock hard as I watched. As usual, there was no one in the bar. Who would sit inside in a dark bar on such a beautiful Florida day?

I turned away from the window and there stood Amy, the food and beverage department's manager. She simply smiled at me and waited for me to explain what I was doing. I figured no explanation was necessary and smiled back as if to challenge her to begin the conversation. She walked past me to the window and looked out on the scene of families (and young, jiggly Brazilian girls) splashing in the pool. I stood behind her silently and watched her watch them.

She had been an assistant manager when I'd been hired, but when the man who hired me moved on, she'd been promoted. Several people in the department, the head chef and the sous chef especially, seemed resentful of the fact that a woman younger than them was now their boss. For her part, Amy kept her head up and dug in to do the best job that she could. It did not always make her popular among the staff, but I understood the position she'd been put in and treated her with respect.

I'd noticed in my six months of working at the resort that very rarely, the young girl in her was allowed to show through. I considered myself lucky to have seen it a few times.

Once, when a bartender left the resort, everyone on the F & B staff who could get the night off went to an impromptu party thrown at a nearby resort down the road. After the group had imbibed a couple of drinks, the leaders of the party decided that we all would be a little more comfortable at a smaller, more intimate place. We headed en masse towards a small dive bar further away from the tourist area, one in which many of the local hotel employees relaxed after long shifts on their feet. The clientele was more local and the drinks were cheaper.

After about two hours of the festivities at this new place, the group had grown smaller. Some of the usual suspects paired up and left, others just left to get home to spouses, but about eight of us were left sitting in a large padded booth in a dark corner. I found myself between Amy and Paula, a younger girl who worked in the snack bar. I figured that as I got used to my new home and job in Florida, I would grow to understand the social conventions of southern girls, but for now I sipped a coke and listened to them talk. I listened quietly and deferred to my boss so as not to appear too talkative. Paula also sat quietly and listened to the other loudmouths cutting up after too many drinks.

As I looked at Paula, I noticed what a pretty girl she was. I usually didn't pay attention to her at work, because like the rest of us, her uniform didn't do much for her shape. In her casual clothes though, she was a little knockout. A fitted blouse tapered down to a slim waste and designer jeans that hugged her curves. A pair of open toed high heeled sandals completed her look, one that I found very attractive. At work, she looked like a shy, fifteen year old but out on the town, she was every bit the smart-dressing, hot, twenty one year old. I found myself thinking about what my move would be and the look in her eyes told me that it might be welcome.

When Amy put a hand on my arm and said, "Come on Dave. Walk your boss out to her car. I'm going home," I thought I saw an extremely disappointed look on Paula's face. I got up from the table, surprised by the request from our boss. I walked away from the pretty twenty one year old to escort our boss to our car. I looked back at Paula as if to say, "What can I do? She's the boss." Hoping I'd be right back, I clearly had no idea what Amy had in mind.

While we walked, I realized that Amy had had too much to drink as evidenced by her slight weaving as we walked down the long hallway to the outside doors. She hooked her arm in mine, an act which placed the back of my hand against one of Amy's big breasts. "Mmmmmm," she hummed when she realized that I was touching her. The woman's other hand kept my hand tightly in place so I couldn't move it if I'd wanted to avoid the contact. To fend off my impending erection, I kept reminding myself that Amy had a fiancé who was bigger, older, and meaner than me. On one hand, she shouldn't be driving; on the other, I shouldn't be touching her.

My responsible bartender's sensibilities won out. I stopped her before she could get the keys in the door of her car and took them from her. "Amy, I don't think you should drive. Could you stay and talk with me?" I asked.

Her eyes lit up, "I would like that. But why don't we go somewhere we can talk?"

"Ames, I don't think that's a good idea."

Her insistence was disarming. I've been around girls who want what they want when they want it, and Amy was certainly not in the mood to be denied. She poured on every trick she knew to break me down. She was like a large, predatory feline on the hunt. I must have been breathing in a cloud of her pheromones, as it was extremely difficult to avoid her advances. I contented myself with watching the show and sneaking the occasional peek down her button down blouse. It was open from the collar down to the third button and a heavenly expanse of slightly freckled flesh jiggled there, barely contained by her lacy bra.

Amy asked again, "Why don't you just drive me home and we can talk there?"

All I could think about was the flurry of rumors that would fly around the resort if I didn't walk back into the bar soon. It would be a blow to her credibility as the boss if I left with her and for my part I didn't want everyone talking to me about my night with her either. If Amy and I were ever to hook up, it was going to need to be extremely discreet.

"I'll tell you what Amy: I'm going to take your keys and hold on to them. But I will give you a choice of what I will do. You're not driving so I can either call you a cab or I can go back inside and eventually convince someone to follow us to your house. They can bring me back here to my car after you're safely at home."

"But..." she began.

"No buts Amy. You're not driving and that's that. I guess a third option would be for you to sit out here and sober up. I'm not leaving any time soon, so in a couple of hours, if you can convince me that you're up to it, I might give you back your keys."

"Well, see if anybody wants to follow us home. I'll wait here." I couldn't help but think that the way she'd phrased that was deliberate, but couldn't act on it either way right then. In any case, she clumsily tried to swing her legs into the passenger side of the car and ended up flashing me with a quick glimpse of her white panties. I shook it off and headed back inside.

When I returned, Paula's face lit up seeing that I had not left with Amy. I sat back down next to her. "I'm glad you're back," she whispered so that our co-workers couldn't hear, "these people are drunken idiots and I was afraid you were going to leave me alone with them."

"It's not that easy," I told her. I quickly explained the situation and how it was important to me that Amy not be embarrassed about her condition in public. "If we can leave discreetly so that nobody knows what we're doing, that'd be great," I continued.

"A gentleman, huh? I hope somebody like you is looking out for me if I ever get sloppy in public."

"Me too, young lady. Come on."

We said our goodbyes and walked out into the humid night air. Amy perked up when I slid into the driver's side of her Thunderbird and started it. We backed out into the road and headed towards her home which was only about four miles away. I asked if she was going to need the window down but she didn't want her hair messed up by the wind. I didn't think that she was close to vomiting but figured it would be worth asking.

Paula followed in her car and we soon were parked in Amy's driveway.

"David," she said, "I'll be here alone. Are you sure you don't want to come in?"

"I'll walk you to your door, Boss, but no further. You'll thank me later."

At her front door, she tried one last time. Her arms went around my neck in a clumsy attempt at convincing me to come in. She inclined her head and moved in for a kiss. At the last moment, I turned my head and she planted one on my cheek.

"I'll see you at work, Amy."

When I got into Paula's little Honda, she was shaking her head. "'Just had to kiss her, didn't you?"

"I tried to stop her. I don't know what you were looking at."

"Yeah, you stopped her. But was that for my benefit or hers?"

Since when are girls this age so perceptive? When thinking about it after all these years, I can't answer honestly. I probably stopped Amy from continuing for a couple of reasons. One, Paula was sitting where she could watch it happen and going into the house with Amy would have been unacceptable considering the favor that Paula was doing both of us by helping me get Amy home. Two, hooking up with Amy would certainly have ruined any chances I had of being with Paula. I wanted both, so they had to be kept separate. And three, even though I wanted to sleep with Amy, if and when I did, it would be when she was more in control of herself. Knocking over a round-heeled, tipsy girl had never been my style. Half of the fun of the seduction is in the "chase"; a girl who's not in control of all of her faculties takes some of the luster from the "capture".

We drove back to the bar and my car in near silence. I still didn't know Paula well, and I was probably quiet from thinking about missed opportunities and the future ones as well. When she'd put the car in park, she turned to me and said, "That was downright noble of you, considering that you've been seeing Angie. It must have been quite an effort to resist Amy's advances. She'll be embarrassed later about this."

"Thanks. It's not every day that stuff like this happens to me you know." I thought for a second and continued, "I think we should avoid talking about this around work. Nobody in there knows she was in any condition. Let's not embarrass her."

"Agreed," she said before going back into the bar, and I went home.

But now, a few months later, Amy stood in my bar in a light blue dress. She had silently walked up behind me, a feat that was not that difficult with the soft carpet of the bar's upper lounge area. As I looked at her by the window, wondering where this encounter would lead, I resisted the urge to look down and check out her legs and ass. I knew that any movement of my head would be caught in the reflection of the glass so I simply stood behind her and looked at the reflection of her eyes waiting for her to speak.

"Looking at the ladies are we?"

Why lie? She'd walked right up on me while I was doing it. What she didn't know was that I had seen her reflection coming up behind me but what was the point? I was in my early twenties; I couldn't have been stopped from looking at women by anything short of poking out my eyes. "You know I am, Boss. I've got the second best job in the hotel."

She turned, "Oh, what's the first?"

I pointed out the pool bar with its roof of palm fronds and complete view of the pool area. "That one right there."

"You'll probably have that shift soon," she replied. This surprised me since the guys with more seniority usually took the shifts at the pool for obvious reasons. New guys like me typically had the inside lounge which was dead all day long. No customers, no sales, no tips. But, since it doubled as the service bar during the day, it allowed me the opportunity to talk to the waitresses from the café, a feature that I had recently begun to take advantage of. "Why would I be getting the pool bar...?" I began, but she turned to look at me with a look that stopped my inquiry. She'd said too much and I didn't push it.

I stepped away from her as a guest walked into the bar from the pool area. We may have been a little too close before I moved and I didn't want anything to appear improper. "Where're the towels, mate?" he asked. After we'd got the dripping wet Brit headed in the correct direction for pool towels, she continued the conversation.

Changing the subject, she said, "Dave, I never thanked you for looking out for me."

Since she realized that I hadn't made the transition from one subject to another with her, she continued, "At the bar...when I drank too much...remember?" Recognition arched my eyebrows. "You could have taken advantage of me. People would still be talking about it if you had."

"Amy, it's not my style to be the reason that a lady gets a reputation. You were pretty convincing though."

"Well, it's good to know that I might still have it," she laughed. "I'm sorry for the position that I put you in."

"Amy, you were pretty insistent. About what I'm not sure, and since nothing happened, I don't need to know. As far as I was concerned, you were off limits."

"Were?" she joked, "All the same, thanks."

"My pleasure," I said. "It's not often that I am in a position to help you out. I'm happy to do it."

"Speaking of things you're happy to do, you seem to be quite popular among the girls working in the café."

All I could do in reply was to blush and look down at the floor.

"Relax," she said, "your social life is none of my business. I've already said too much."

"Too much? About what?" I asked.

"Two things: the pool bar and Angela," she finished.

She saw a movement behind me and I followed her gaze. "'Looks like you have a customer. I'll talk to you later." She left the bar in the opposite direction from the newcomer, heading out to the pool to look incredibly out of place as the only one there who was fully clothed. "Shame," I thought, "I'd sure like to see her in a bikini, or less..."

The visitor was Olga, Angie's sister. She stood in the lounge's door way and allowed me to take her in. She was clearly dressed for more than her occasional drop-in on her sister at work. A light yellow sundress and low heeled sandals gave her a look of youthful freshness and spring time. Her dress hung from her shoulders on thin straps and exposed a delightful amount of her upper breasts. Since it was impossible to wear a bra with the garment, her nipples poked at the thin fabric, clearly aroused by the air conditioning. "How cliché," I thought, laughing to myself. Her hips swung sexily as she walked towards me. She was holding something small in her hands.

"Are you really only twenty three, David?" she asked. She held out my wallet to me; I must have left it at Angie's house and here she was taking the opportunity to return it.

"Ummm, yeah. Thanks. And hello...Olga." I wondered what else she'd looked at in my wallet. Since I didn't have a bunch of credit cards, I wasn't worried that she'd done anything improper and I carried my cash in a money clip so it wasn't like she could have robbed me. "'Find anything else interesting?" I didn't know where the visit and the conversation were going so I decided just to see how it played out.

"Most guys your age have a rubber in their wallet." She looked at me questioningly and when I didn't answer, continued, "I was going to say that 'most boys your age...' but since you don't carry a rubber, you may be a little more mature than those guys."

"I don't understand; why would not having a condom make me more mature?" Better yet, why was I standing in the middle of the lounge with this gorgeous woman and talking about rubbers in the middle of the day?

"Too many young men seem presumptuous when they carry one. The thing eventually wears a ring into your wallet, and no woman that I know trusts a condom that is old enough to wear a ring in a wallet. More importantly, no woman wants to be thought of as a 'sure thing'."

I laughed at the explanation and remembered back to a time when I had carried one in my wallet.

"So, you stopped by to bring me my wallet? And you got dressed up for me?" I said while purposefully looking her up and down. She looked great; in fact, I don't believe I'd ever looked at her this closely before. Hell, I knew she was hot, but the nicely made up hair and face combined with this softer, more feminine look was inspiring. Inspiring other parts of me to pay attention so much that I decided I'd better get back behind my bar in case I developed a boner. It had become easy to forget about how dismissively she'd treated me in the past.

I pushed the wallet into my right rear pocket and opened the little half door that led to the area behind the bar. Needing an excuse for moving to the bar area, I asked her if she'd like anything to drink. She took a seat and told me to make her something that I thought she'd like.

"Anything?" I asked.

"Whatever you want," she answered.

So I got to work. I quickly mixed a Pink Squirrel and strained it into a cocktail glass. The drink was nearly the color of Pepto-Bismol and she took a sip hesitantly. "Mmmm. Good," she whispered. "What is it?"

"It's called a Pink Squirrel. It's not too strong, it's not too sweet, and best of all, it's pink," I answered.

She took a few more sips and placed it back on the bar. "Just like me, huh?" She searched my face for recognition of what she'd said.

I thought, "Hmmm, 'not too strong,' ok. 'Not too sweet', yeah that was her. 'Pink'? What? Hey, was she talking about what I think she was talking about?" As an answer to my unasked questions, Olga just smiled and finished the drink. A little dollop of the creamy pink liquid was caught on the corner of her mouth and I handed her a fresh cocktail napkin and pointed it out to her.

After wiping it off, she asked, "Are you always such a gentleman?"

"Well, I try to be." Again, I thought to myself, "Why is she here? Where is this going?"

"It didn't appear that way last night when you were railing my sister."

I nearly choked on a coke that I'd been drinking. She laughed and continued, "I just want to know if you and I are going to get together." Damn, these girls were direct.

"Olga, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought of you. Angie and I talked about it last night too. It's kinda taken me by surprise though. I usually wait until one girl hates me before dating another." I refilled my coke and poured her another drink. This time I made her a Grasshopper. She silently took a sip and again, showed her approval by licking her lips.

"Not too strong, not too sweet, but...green?" she asked.

"Yeah, I didn't think you'd be able to claim that this one was similar to you in too many ways since you're wearing yellow." "'Joke's on you, Hon. I'm wearing green underwear."

I jokingly said, "I'm going to need proof of that." She gave me a mock-angry look and I said, "Oh, did I say that out loud?"